Clara felt herself being carried in a pile of blankets, her face resting on a masculine chest. The Doctor was moving slowly and carefully so as not to jolt her, turning sideways as he navigated a door. Another turn and she felt herself being lowered onto a bed.

Her head came to rest on a familiar pile of cushions and she felt the duvet being peeled back from under her. He tucked her in snugly and then gently brushed the hair out of her face before placing a hand on her cheek, perhaps to check her temperature. She leaned into his touch and rolled to face him.

The hand was quickly removed from her cheek. "Clara?"

".. Yes," she managed through the fog of semi-consciousness.

Clara felt the bed dip as The Doctor sat down on the edge. "I brought you home. Thought you might be more comfortable."

There was a long pause as she struggled to get her brain into gear to reply. She squinted trying to remember what had just happened and looked up at him. "Did I..?"

"You fainted. Fortunately I caught you before you cracked your head open on the floor. It's becoming quite a habit of yours, this collapsing business."

"I'm sorry," she said closing her eyes, slightly embarrassed as she remembered her earlier outburst.

"Don't be sorry." She felt his hand give her an affectionate pat on the rump as he got up.

"You still haven't told me how we got away on that planet." Despite her eyes being closed she still managed to pin him to the spot where he stood.

He shifted his weight, a sign of his discomfort at the thought of story-telling. "Nothing to it. After you collapsed I just pulled the stake out of the ground."

"You pulled the stake out of the ground?" she looked up disbelievingly.

"It was a bit lose," he admitted.

"And then?"

"And then.. the chains came off. I took you back to the TARDIS and threw you in a cold bath."

"What about the sand piranhas?"

"Oh, we made it back before feeding time."

There were no more questions from Clara so the The Doctor turned and left the room. She dozed lightly, hearing the odd clank of pots and pans and dishes being moved around in the kitchen.

A short time later, Clara sat on her bed propped up by a mountain of cushions. The Doctor was sitting at the dresser facing her. The TARDIS sat snugly in the corner, tall and ominous.

The Doctor's apology came in the form of egg on toast. Clara tucked in enthusiastically but she was still sore about him going into her mind uninvited.

"Are you still cross with me?" he asked, idly chewing on a fingernail, almost nervously.

"Yes," she answered without looking up. "But thank you for breakfast."

"Well, technically it's not breakfast, it's dinner."

"What is the time anyway?" she said taking a bite from a piece of buttered toast.

"6:37PM local time."

Her eyes went wide. "6:37!" She put her knife and fork down and pushed the plate off her lap. "I'm supposed to be on a date at 7!"

Clara leapt off the bed, frantic. "Get out! I have to get dressed!" she said trying to shoo him out. He didn't move.

"You might want to have a wash, Clara," he suggested.

"Are you saying I smell?"

"No.. I'm merely suggesting that you might have the aroma of a person who has recently been quite unwell."

She gave him a furious look before rushing into the bathroom. Clara slammed the door. He was right; she did need to shower. Clara peeled off the pink pyjamas and hopped under the stream of hot water.

Back in the bedroom The Doctor got up, opened Clara's wardrobe and started pulling items off the rack and throwing them onto the bed.

Clara eventually returned from the bathroom, freshly showered and wearing a bathrobe. Her hair was still wet and hung limply around her face.

"What are you doing?" she asked looking at the pile of clothes on her bed.

"I'm helping you choose something to wear." He held up a red dress he'd never seen before. "This is nice! Is it new?"

She snatched it from him and discarded it to the pile with the other clothes.

Clara had a sudden realisation. "Oh no. I have to eat another dinner."

"Well you'd better wear something with an elasticised waist then," he teased.

"I don't wear things with elasticised waists," she hissed grabbing a pair of black pants and a yellow shirt from the cupboard before pushing The Doctor back into the TARDIS and closing the door on him.

Clara rushed into the bar. "Hiya. Sorry I'm late."

Danny greeted her with a kiss. "You're not but you're brown. You're very brown. You weren't that brown this morning."

Clara's eyes went wide and she tried to quickly think up an excuse for her new skin tone. "Sunbed," she said fanning her face.